peasant shares with the prince in the high distinction of immortality.

10. It is because in the poorest man's bosom, there resides an undying principle;-it is because of that endless futurity which is before him, and in the progress of which all the splendors and obscurations of our present state will be speedily forgotten; it is because of these that humanity, however it be clothed and conditioned in this evanescent world, should be the object of an awful reverence. And if, by reason of the perishable glories which sit on a monarch's brow for but one generation, it is imperative to honor the king; then by reason of those glories, to which the meanest may attain, and which are to last forever, it is still more imperative to "HONor all men.”

11. “WHY did the fiat of a God give birth
Το yon fair Sun, and his attendant Earth?
And, when descending he resigns the skies,
Why takes the gentler Moon her turn to rise,
Whom Ocean feels through all his countless waves,
And owns her power on every shore he laves?
12. Why do the Seasons still enrich the year,
Fruitful and young as in their first career?
Spring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees,
Rocked in the cradle of the western breeze;
Summer in haste the thriving charge receives
Beneath the shade of her expanded leaves,
Till Autumn's fiercer heats and plenteous dews
Dye them at last in all their glowing hues.—
13. 'Twere wild profusion all, and bootless waste,
Pow'r misemployed, munificence misplaced,
Had not its Author dignified the plan,
And crowned it with the majesty of MAN.
For him kind Nature wakes her genial power,
Nurses each herb, and spreads out every flower;
Seas roll to waft him, suns to light him rise;
His footstool Earth, his canopy the Skies."

:

LESSON LIV.

THE LAST MAN.

CAMPBELL.

1. ALL worldly shapes shall melt in gloom,—

The Sun himself must die,

Before this mortal shall assume
Its immortality!

I saw a vision in my sleep,

That gave my spirit strength to sweep

Adown the gulf of time!

I saw the last of human mold,
That shall creation's death behold,
As Adam saw her prime !

2. The sun's eye had a sickly glare,—
The earth with age was wan;

The skeletons of nations were

Around that lonely man!

Some had expired in fight,-the brands
Still rusted in their bony hands,-

In plague and famine some.

Earth's cities had no sound or tread,
And ships were drifting with the dead-
To shores where all was dumb!

2. Yet, prophet-like, that lone one stood,
With dauntless words and high,
That shook the sear leaves from the wood,
As if a storm passed by;

Saying, "We are twins in death, proud Sun;
Thy face is cold, thy race is run,

"Tis mercy bids thee go;

For thou, ten thousand thousand years,

Hast seen the tide of human tears,

That shall no longer flow.

4. "This spirit shall return to Him
That gave its heavenly spark;

We were

1. WHEN We came to the Inn upon the Wengern Alp, we were nearly 5,500 feet above the level of the sea. directly in face of the JUNGFRAU, upon whose masses of perpetual snow we had been gazing with so much interest. They seem close to us, so great. is the deception in clear air; but a deep, vast ravine, (I know not but a league across from where we were,) separates the Wengern Alp from the Jungfrau, which rises in an abrupt sheer precipice, of many thousand feet, somewhat broken into terraces, down which the Avalanches from the higher beds of untrodden, everlasting snow, plunge thundering into the uninhabitable abyss.

2. Perhaps there is not another mountain so high in all Switzerland, which you can look at so near and so full in the

face. Out of this ravine the Jungfrau rises eleven thousand feet, down which vast hight the Avalanches sometimes sweep with their incalculable masses of ice from the very topmost summit. The idea of a mass of ice, so gigantic that it might overwhelm whole hamlets, or sweep away a forest in its course, being shot down, with only one or two interruptions, a distance of eleven thousand feet, is astounding. But it is those very interruptions that go to produce the overpowering sublimity of the scene.

3. Were there no concussion intervening between the loosening of the mountain ridge of ice and snow, and its fall into the valley, if it shot sheer off into the air, and came down in one solid mass unbroken, it would be as if a mountain had fallen, at noon-day, out of heaven. And this would certainly be sublime in the highest degree, but it would not have the awful slowness and deep prolonged roar of the Jungfrau Avalanche in mid air, nor the repetition of sublimity with each interval of thousands of feet, in which it strikes and thunders.

4. I think, without any exception, it was the grandest sight I ever beheld, not even the cataract of Niagara having impressed me with such thrilling sublimity. Ordinarily, in a sunny day at noon, the Avalanches are falling on the Jungfrau about every ten minutes, with the roar of thunder, but they are much more seldom visible, and sometimes the traveler crosses the Wengern Alp without witnessing them at all. But we were so highly favored as to see two of the grandest Avalanches possible, in the course of about an hour, between twelve o'clock and two. One can not command any language to convey an adequate idea of their magnificence.

5. You are standing far below, gazing up where the great disc of the glittering Alp, cuts the heavens, and drinking in the influence of the silent scene around. Suddenly an enormous mass of snow and ice, in itself a mountain, seems to move; it breaks from the topling outmost mountain ridge of snow, where it is hundreds of feet in depth, and in its first fall of perhaps two thousand feet, is broken into millions of frag

ments.

As you first see the flash of distant artillery by

night, then hear the roar, so here you may see the white flashing mass majestically bowing, then hear the astounding din.

6. A cloud of dusty, dry snow rises into the air from the concussion, forming a white volume of fleecy smoke, or misty light, from the bosom of which thunders forth the icy torrent in its second prodigious fall over the rocky battlements. The eye follows it delighted, as it plows through the path which preceding Avalanches have worn, till it comes to the brink of a vast ridge of bare rock, perhaps more than two thousand feet perpendicular. Then pours the whole cataract over the gulf, with a still louder roar of echoing thunder, to which nothing but the noise of Niagara in its sublimity, is comparable.

7. Nevertheless, you may think of the tramp of an army of elephants, or the roar of multitudinous cavalry marching to battle, of the whirlwind tread of ten thousand bisons sweeping across the prairie, of the tempest surf of ocean beating and shaking the continent, of the sound of torrent floods, or of a numerous host, or the voice of the trumpet on Sinai, exceeding loud, and waxing louder and louder, so that all the people in the camp tremble, or of the rolling orbs of that fierce Chariot, described by Milton,

"Under whose burning wheels

The steadfast empyrean shook throughout."

It is with such a mighty shaking tramp that the Avalanche down thunders.

8. Another fall of still greater depth ensues, over a second similar castellated ridge or reef in the surface of the mountain, with an awful, majestic slowness, and a tremendous crash in its concussion, awakening again the reverberating peals of thunder. Then the torrent roars on to another smaller fall, till at length it reaches a mighty groove of snow and ice. Here its progress is slower, and last of all you listen to the roar of the falling fragments, as they drop, out of sight, with a dead weight into the bottom of the gulf, to rest there forever.

9. Figure to yourself a cataract like that of Niagara, poured in foaming grandeur, not merely over one great precipice of two hundred feet, but over the successive ridgy precipices of